Category: Sardonic Side

This time of year we hear laments, understandably so, about the eroding meaning of the holiday season. It’s all about shopping–kick-started by “Black Friday” and “Cyber Monday.”

Even the literal landscape is changing. At Clearwater’s Westfield Countryside Mall, for example, there were signs of the season last weekend that included more than Salvation Army kettles and Yule tide displays. The mall was debuting SkyWatch, a two-story, manned mobile surveillance tower. It’s meant mainly to deter vehicular burglaries.

Nothing says contemporary Christmas holiday season more than a watch tower.

This just in: “Glut of law grads may go unemployed. Potential lawyers rethinking pricey degrees.”

This just noted: Imagine. The law of supply and demand, even in the world’s most litigious society, actually applies.

Apparently the real world application of driverless-cars technology is now upon us. Or as Ananth Prasad, the secretary of Florida’s Department of Transportation, puts it: “This technology is not 22nd century. It is here.”

Oh.

Anyone else feel equally amazed and, well, sort of uneasy? As in all of us who–on direction from driver-training instructors and parents–grew up with a “both hands on the wheel” mantra, no matter how tempting those one-handed, hair-pin turns were. Now we hear that drivers won’t have to get a grip. I thought back to the future involved a cool DeLorean.

We also hear that Florida, which can’t get really serious about texting drivers, is one of three states that will allow automated vehicles to be tested on public roads. Presumably it will include those rural interstates where the maximum speed limit is likely to increase to 75 mph.

So what’s next for Sunshine State roads scholars? Maybe a rationale that texting-while-driving is really a driverless-car shake-down cruise.

Coming soon to a mail slot near you: the Harry Potter Forever postage stamp.

Sure, the U.S. Postal Service, which last year lost $5 billion, continues its budget bleeding apace. We all get the need to do, well, something. But you don’t have to be an outraged philatelist to be taken aback by the blatant, pop-culture commercialism. At least Elvis Presley, whose visage has seen its share of canceled markings over the years, made cultural as well as financial sense. He was a non-fictional, American original.

So, what’s the back story here? Did Lady Gaga turn down an offer? Why not LeBron James? How about 50 Cent? Hulk Hogan? Snookie? Sponge Bob? Was Whitey Bulger too generational?

But the Harry Potter Forever stamp could notably catch on in Florida, at least for its first year. At least while Lord Voldemort is still in office.

Amble down most residential streets this week and you’re sure to notice that signs of late October are manifest. Halloween is now–finally–here.

There are ad hoc Potter’s Fields, massive cobwebs, gigantic spiders, images of witches, vampires and zombies, and vestiges of ghosts, ghouls and goblins. Those going old school still carve up a mean, if goofy, pumpkin. And some homeowners throw in sound effects and lighting worthy of community theater. Alas, every now and then you see–or read accounts of–homeowners who confuse tasteless with attention-getting and abuse the holiday spirit. Turning you porch into a veritable drug cartel crime scene isn’t appropriate, let alone family friendly.

One year, in (Evansville) Indiana, I can recall being costumed like a masked scarecrow and lounging lifelessly out front in a rocking chair, surrounded by similarly garbed, authentic dummies. Somewhere along the way, when the porch had that critical mass of the unsuspecting, I would move. Barely perceptible at first. Then more obvious. With a voice alternating between the Wizard of Oz and Sylvester Stallone as Rocky, I wanted to startle, but not freak out. I was also after, I acknowledge, cheap laughs and would comment on the kids’ costumes and award an extra Snickers to the best on the porch.

Over the years, I’ve noticed some costume patterns. Princesses and pop-culture icons never go out of style, and Harry Potter and Spiderman have remained in vogue. But there are the envelope pushers and parental enablers. Here’s hoping, for example, that this Halloween doesn’t yield many–or any–twerking Miley Cyruses and uncostumed teens–and, no, a baseball cap, tank-top, shorts and a pillow case don’t count–looking for a low-maintenance, seasonal handout.

At that point, I start substituting candy corn for Snickers.

The official word out of Tallahassee is that Gov. Rick Scott remains in no hurry to fill the job of lieutenant governor. Certainly not while the Democratic field remains far from settled. Scott Chief of Staff Adam Hollingsworth, who’s in charge of the search, says the key Lt-Gov. criteria is basic. The Jennifer Carroll successor must be someone who has “the same policy mind-set as the governor, has the same vision for moving Florida forward, and would do it with an integrity that is consistent with the governor’s character.”

Only one, seemingly obvious, problem: The key criteria should eliminate, well, everybody.

We all know how important acronyms, memes and nicknames are in securing public notice and marketplace separation. But what’s with this national group of activist, anti-Common Core curriculum teachers, including some 1,200 in Florida, who call themselves “BATs?” That stands for Badass Teachers Association.  Granted, there are legitimate issues over national standards and over-testing, but calling yourself “Badasses” doesn’t add credibility to a cause. Especially not in this obnoxiously polarized political environment.

Somebody with attitude took some badass advice.

This should be a sacrilege: Cuban restaurants that serve café con leche in a styrofoam cup. Whatever the reason, it’s not good enough. Like adding ketchup to your steak at Bern’s.   

The 4th of July.

The history humbles us. The connotations–Declaration of Independence, Founding Fathers, democracy, liberty, freedom, patriotism, exceptionalism–inspire us. Reminders of the rockets’ red glare over Fort McHenry literally illuminates us.

This past Fourth saw the re-opening of the Statue of Liberty plus major concerts in Boston, Philadelphia, Washington and New Orleans. The First Family hosted U.S. servicemen and women at the White House for a cookout. Many communities held parades. Baseball games saluted the military. “Yankee Doodle Dandy” remained a holiday favorite. Locally, nighttime  pyrotechnics were on display from Brandon to Gulfport, and 27 nations–from the Bahamas to Vietnam–were represented in the Fourth of July naturalization ceremony at the Tampa Bay History Center.

And yet.

There’s an argument to be made that each year removed from 1776 and the War of 1812 is another year of decreasing connection. A Gallup poll says 71 percent of Americans think the Founding Fathers would be disappointed by the way the U.S. has turned out. As a nation, we’ve long since quit prioritizing the teaching of history and civics. It’s embarrassing that it’s not more embarrassing. Throwing a national birthday party in 2013, arguably, doesn’t quite look like–or mean–what it used to. To wit:

*Curtis Hixon Waterfront Park was among a number of sites nationally that hosted anti-NSA demonstrations. The “Restore the Fourth” protest downtown featured “I am Snowden” signs carried by demonstrators wearing masks–no, not Lady Liberty, but Guy Fawkes.

*It wouldn’t be Independence Day without a July 4th Weekend Blowout at Shooters World, which meant up to 30% off firearms, ammo and accessories–plus a concealed carry class. Celebrating in the Stand Your Ground State. You betcha.

*It also wouldn’t be Independence Day without fireworks purchasers celebrating a legal farce: blatantly lying by signing a waiver promising to use them for agricultural purposes.

*As a consequence, it wouldn’t be Independence Day without news reports of inexpertly monitored, ad hoc fireworks exploding prematurely or blasting off in directions other than “up.”

*While we all appreciate the aesthetics of a sky aglow in color, there are those among us who treat the Fourth like Gasparilla used to be at its worst. No rules. Does the free-lancing cherry bomb and firecracker crowd–that wouldn’t know Fort McHenry from Fort Brooke and isn’t limited to the Fourth or to non-wee hours–sound familiar? If you have pets who are unnerved by kaboomin’ idiots, it surely does.

*For those nostalgic for images of Saddam Hussein aiming his automatic weapon at the Baghdad skyline, there’s always “celebratory” gun fire. The obvious problem: Bullets that go up also come down. “We the people” morph into we the yahoos and ass-hats. Yes, they are also among us.

*And who can ignore that glorification of gluttony: the nationally televised Coney Island Fourth of July hot dog eating contest? For the record, perennial winner Joey Chestnut downed 69 hot dogs and buns in 10 minutes, which amounted to 20,000 calories and 1,200 grams of fat consumed. No, there were no sack races afterward.

Ponder this: In 1991, the top two majors at Yale University were history and English. This year they were economics and political science. Can never have enough derivative hustlers and political consultants. Sobering.